


And Back Again

by Solariel



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 04:53:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3678291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solariel/pseuds/Solariel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zevran has missed his Warden after so many years apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Back Again

**Author's Note:**

> Enserric Amell has been away for several years and Zevran has missed him quite a bit. I just wanted to write Zevran's POV where he's just a little out of control.

  
Enserric crowded forward, pressing Zevran into the corner between the bookshelves and the wall, conveniently dark and well hidden from the rest of the -blessedly empy- library.

  
The assassin went willingly, _eagerly_ , breath coming quicker than before. His hands grasped at the man's robe and he tilted his head back, offering his mouth, groaning as Enserric slanted his over Zevran's own. Zevran had been unprepared for the level of relief the simple action brought and something inside him eased, something tight uncoiled , he felt like he could _breathe_ again. It made him dizzy and he arched, mouth opening to slide his tongue between Enserric's lips.

  
The resulting kiss was hungry, desperate and distantly he could hear small gasps, little whimpers but he couldn't bring himself to care. It was both a curse and a blessing that Enserric was more patient -or cruel- than he because the man did not give into Zevran's fevered kisses and just slid his lips slowly, purposefully over the Elf's, pulling away only once Zevran had been reduced to a wrecked _mess_.

"Amora-" He whimpered, arching, hands raking through the mage's soft black hair. He undulated against the man, stuck between his hot body and the cold wall. The feel of the man's muscles beneath those prudish robes made him shudder. Zevran willed himself to slow down, to not scare his beloved off but it was so hard. He had missed him so much.

"Please," He begged, wanting more. Even the idea of having this man, his Warden, in his arms again had Zevran careening past the point of no return.

Enserric groaned against him, arms winding around Zevran's waist, pulling him forward to fit against his body, pushing a leg between his thighs and the slight friction against his hardness had the elf writhing desperately in the man's arms.

"Amora, please, I want you. Te quiero, por favor. My Warden-!" Zevran was glad when the man kissed him again because it meant he was silenced but the hot wet slide of the man's tongue against his own had him groaning loudly, his tongue flitting out, his cock throbbing at the lingering taste of dark wine, lyrium and a the slight buzz that Zevran could only associate with magic, with him. It brought back memories of firelight and fevered couplings, hands and mouths colliding until Enserric beat inside him like he was Zevran's own _pulse_. That he would have that again made him breathless.

Enserric's hands wandered, rising from Zevran's waist to cup his face. His thumb brushed against the swirling tattoos on Zevran's face, tracing their pattern gently, in spite of their heated kisses.

Zevran trembled in his arms, panting when Enserric pulled away and tilted his head so that he could kiss the elf's neck. The assassin squirmed as the mage found all the most sensitive spots, laving them with his tongue, scraping his teeth against the bronzed skin till it shone red in the dim candle-light. He sucked lightly, as if not to leave a mark but Zevran couldn't care less whether he did. In fact, he wanted the man to leave a mark, any mark on his body, _in him_. He moaned, low and wrecked at the thought.

Then, the man's mouth moved up, biting at his jaw and sucking the lobe of one hypersensitive, pointed ear in his mouth. Zevran's breath hitched and he thrust against the thigh between his legs, trying to grind downwards and arch up at the same time. When Enserric's mouth trailed to the tip, Zevran thrashed in his arms, mouth opening to spill a litany of whimpers and pleas. The scrape of teeth against the sensitive flesh made him wail against a clothed shoulder and the breathless chuckle he recieved made his cock pulse. And when his beloved _sucked_ , Zevran did not have the mind to muffle his cries.

The man repeated the action on his other ear, attacking with tongue, lips and teeth until Zevran could feel his heartbeat in each tip. When Enserric pulled away, Zevran had to lay his head against the wall, dizzy from the onslaught of sensation. His ears -and cock- throbbed and he grinded against the mage, hands finally moving to claw at Enserric's robes, pushing the collar aside to expose his lovely olive skin. His fingernails scratched at the skin and the trails would no doubt later rise, red and thick under brighter light.

Enserric groaned at the contact, green eyes glinting in the darkness. "Zevran," he said, in that lovely accent of his before swooping down to mash their mouths together in a needy kiss. One hand snuck down and swept up Zevran's thigh, bringing it up to hook around his hip, kneading the flesh under his leather tunic. "Zevraaan," he said again, like he couldn't believe what was happening.

Zevran understood. He had hoped for this, did not even dare to dream of when it might happen. When the Warden -his warden!- appeared before them in the castle halls, Zevran had been sure that the world underneath his feet had all but dropped out. To see his love again, whole and healthy, made his knees weaken and his heart nearly burst out of his chest. Even so, he didn't blame him the least, his Warden was loyal of their cause and Zevran would stand beside him no matter how much physical distance the years would put between them.

Those thoughts were washed away in the hot grind of the mage's surprisingly muscular body -honed through years of battle- against his own. The man devoured him as if he were starved and Zevran responded in kind, losing himself in the taste. When Enserric pulled away, eyes glazed and hungry, Zevran could not stop himself from speaking,

"Please," he begged, "Enserric," his own voice was thick and heavy, accent noticeably pronounced with his arousal and he saw how it affected his warden, how it makes the mage shiver and the smug pride that follows makes him chuckle breathlessly.

"Amora, I need you." He barely recognized his own voice, cracked and raspy as if he'd been screaming his throat raw.

  
His answer was a dark growl and Enserric all but tore his hands away from Zevran's skin, slamming them against the stone wall as electricity crackled between his fingers, the current of energy too strong to stand against bare flesh.

There is another kiss, dark and smothering, stealing all his breath away in a dance of lips, tongue and teeth. Enserric pulled away, face twisted in deep desire as he gasped in slow, heavy breaths in a bid to control himself. He pins Zevran in place with his eyes, that unraveled look that makes the elf shiver and writhe against him even as the telltale crackle of energy flickers across his peripheral and makes the edges of his hair rise. This man is _beautiful_ and _dangerous_ and it is a combination Zevran has always found intoxicating. He has never been good with temptation.

"Not here," his Warden speaks and his lovely voice, usually so light and friendly, has been twisted into a dark, predatory baritone that washes over Zevran in a wave of heat. "My quarters."

Mentally, Zevran maps a path from the library to Enserric's room and he bites his lip before the groan of protest can worm its way out. It's a sound plan and closer than his own rooms. Getting caught rutting in the royal library is something best left for amorous adolescents but it's so hard to think when his brain has all but dribbled out his ears. He clutches at the mage's robes in protest even though he has no better solution to offer.

"Lead," he pants between hot kisses, "the way amora."

When Enserric pulls away, Zevran is glad to note that he is not the only one whose knees are shaking ever so slightly.

The trek to Enserric's quarters is absolute torture and it's dark when they leave the library, the castle slowly falling asleep with the coming night but there are still guards about, bodies precariously balancing on their pikes as they try to stave off the boredom and tiredness. It is all that keeps Zevran from pushing his Warden against the walls and dropping to his knees in abject worship. Instead, he follows softly behind his mage and watches those long, clever fingers curl and uncurl as magic races across them.

The sight jogs a memory and Zevran is back in time, on his knees as those same hands run across his ears, electricity arcing down the tips in a straight line down between his legs. He stifles a moan just barely and Enserric whips his head to look at him, eyes wide with heat.

Eventually they arrive just in time for Zevran to lose the final vestiges of control and the vigor with which he slams his Warden against the wooden door of his quarters is loud enough to echo through the halls.

His enthusiasm is met in kind and Enserric's hands are tearing at his leathers, hands snapping against the various buckles and straps that hold the pieces in place. He hisses in frustration when they don't give but Zevran is beyond caring, focusing on the Warden's clothes.Enserric's robes rip underneath his hands and distantly he feels the feathers of those ridiculous shoulderpads come apart underneath his fingers but then Zevran touches skin and any guilt he may have had evaporates completely. He surges forward, mouthing the warm flesh and moans a little desperately at the taste, so familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.

His beloved groans brokenly, hands tangling in Zevran's hair, having given up at the complicated buckles, pulling at the braids that the elf has kept in his his hair for so long. "Zevran!" He pleads, his voice as twisted and needy as Zevran feels. "Please, love," He pulls insistently and Zevran raises his head with a sort of angry huff at being interrupted but then Enserric is slanting his mouth over his and the assassin can only pant.

They touch and grind and kiss and at some point, the back of Zevran's thighs touch the bed and he jerks away, shocked. "How-" he starts, his tongue clumsy with lust as he tries to figure  out how they managed to move without him noticing at all.

Enserric notices his confusion and chuckles, pushing a little insistently against him. "Getting soft in your dotage, Master Arainai?"

Zevran allows himself to fall back, arching against that gorgeous body as it drapes over him like a thick, heavy blanket. "I am a little...distracted," he says breathlessly, grinning up at the mage as his hands weave up the corded muscle of Enserric's arms.

There is a moment of silence as the intimacy in the air thickens between them. The room is dark but there is a fire, stoked probably by some servants an hour or two before and the soft glow is beautiful on Enserric's skin, his olive complexion is warm and inviting, contrasting with the single earring hanging from his ear and the small flecks of gold in his eyes stand out brilliantly. He feels his mouth hanging open at the sight and all that desire just burns through him in a wave of flashfire.

And Enserric must be using his magic, he _must_ be because this kind of heat is unnatural, Zevran feels like he about to burst into flame at the intense coil of need that's thundering up his spine. The air between them is heavy again and Enserric is curled against him, mouth hard and wanting. When he pulls away and starts working on his armor, Zevran reaches to help him, his hands shaking with the strain of concentration. He curses in his mother tongue as his fingers, usually so agile and adept, slip against the metal buckles.

When he reaches his belt, Enserric straddles him and reaches for the tatters of his own robes, opening and shucking them aside in one smooth motion. The sight of his bare chest makes Zevran bite his lip, eyes roving Enserric in appreciation. The years apart have done nothing except to fill out the mage and while he was far from brawny, the lean musculature suited him wonderfully. Unfortunately, Zevran doesn't manage to look all that much before Enserric is moving off him to peel away his trousers and boots.

It's only a matter of seconds before his own clothes are tossed into a random corner before Zevran is being pushed down again. The touch of skin to skin is unbearably sensual and he groans helplessly. "Amora," he pants as Enserric plasters his mouth to Zevran's neck, biting and sucking against his skin.

Enserric pulls away and laughs breathlessly, his hands on Zevran's face. The sound coupled with the sheer affection on his face makes Zevran's heart beat against his ribcage like a trapped bird. "Zevran," he says and that deep rumble apparently has a line directly to Zevran's cock because it makes the elf bow his back. "My love," he continues and mouths the tip of Zevran's ear, "I've missed you."

Struggling to form words against the swipe of that hot tongue is the hardest thing in the world at that moment and Zevran manages a shaky 'yes' before his warden sucks and everything is lost in sensation. Soon enough they're kissing again and their tongues tangle before the Warden moves down, teeth scraping over Zevran's collarbones and raking over his nipples and _yes,_ the feel of that mouth brushing against his cock has him begging,

"Ensi!" The nickname rolls off Zevran's tongue now as easily as it did five years ago, when he first gave it to his Warden. His hands shake through the man's dark hair and he struggles not to thrust up wantonly, to pull at that soft hair. It's a battle he loses when the mage's lips wrap around the tip and Maker have mercy on him he's only a man.

Then Enserric is swallowing him down as much as he can and Zevran cries out, desperately tries not to spend himself in the man's gorgeous mouth like a chantry virgin. "Amora!" he pleads urgently, pulling the man's hair roughly because he doesn't want this to end, not yet.

Enserric pulls away and Zevran looks down and regrets it as those thick lips are slick with spit and poised over his cock and the man looks hungry like the only thing keeping him from sinking down again are Zevran's hands. "Please," he says shakily, swallowing around words that are too difficult to formulate, _"In me."_

He has a second to try and figure out what Enserric's suddenly dark expression might mean before his beloved hooks his arms under Zevran's knees and flips him over in a suprising display of strength. There's a hands pushing down on his shoulder blades and Zevran barely manages a yelp of confusion before he's sobbing against the sheets as something _wet_ and _hot_ curls against him.

Heat blazes up his spine and tumbles out of his mouth in an odd, strangled noise that he can't recognize. "Please!" He begs, "Mercy-please!" The second swipe of that hot tongue makes him keen and spread his legs.

There's a muffled groan -distinctly pleased- against him and those clever hands are spreading him wide and the tip of Enserric's tongue is squirming against him in a teasing push that turns Zevran's begging into mindless noises and half-hearted utterances of his name.

It might be minutes or it might be hours but it's an eternity for Zevran either way as Enserric laps at him like a man half-starved. He clutches the bedsheets, clawing at the linens and his cock is pulsing, dripping, dots of precome slicking the cloth beneath him and the thickness of the sheets is not enough to muffle the breathy moans and desperate little whimpers that pour out of him without his permission.

His skin is damp and slick with sweat as if he's run several miles and by the time that tongue is buried to the root inside him, Zevran is wailing like a needy whore, hips arching and rolling into the mattress with every thrust. He wants to touch himself but he knows even a single stroke would be enough right now and he fights against the surge of sensation, tries to make words form but his tongue is heavy in his mouth and all Zevran manages is a shaky, "Ensi,"

His beloved is pulling away and Zevran just  shakes in place as he hears muffled noises of wood; a drawer being pulled out. There's a clink and the sound of something like a cork and the smell of oil, sweet and pungent hits him with the full force of a charging bronto. Suddenly, he can't stop talking.

"Please, amora, _I need you_ -" Zevran begs shamelessly and arches his back, "In me, _now_ please..."

A hiss interrupts him and there's a blunt force against his entrance and Zevran whimpers at the slow press of a single digit. It's been years and in the back of his mind he knows without preparation it will be painful. For several, deliriously deranged moments he wants it, doesn't care about the pain.

The decision is not up to him because that finger is all the way inside and Enserric is pressed up against him, his cock an iron bar on Zevran's arse. Just the promise of it makes the elf keenly aware of the emptiness. Suddenly all thought is lost as Enserric brushes against the swollen bump inside him and his cock dribbles against the sheets in a wet throb. He hears himself choke on his moan and his Enserric's breath is loud and harsh in the room as his cock slides wetly against one cheek.

"Good?" Enserric says and his voice is like gravel, dark and twisted and possessive.

Zevran moans incoherently in response, unable to control the noises he's making or of the way his hips are twitching back into his touches.

It's apparently enough because Enserric is pulling back and pushing in with another finger. The stretch burns a little but it's so good, every thrust of Enserric's fingers make his cock spit against the sheets. Everything in Zevran's mind is burned away and when his Warden twists his fingers just so, it takes everything in his power not to spill against the sheets. He can't take anymore, Zevran opens his mouth,

"Please...p-please amora, por favor, te amo. Soy _tuya_ -"

Something in his voice must carry through because those fingers are sliding out and he's being turned on his back none too gently.

Enserric hovers above him and he looks desperate, his eyes as hungry and unraveled as Zevran feels and he spreads his legs in invitation. The Warden curses and slicks himself, throwing his head back as if to stave off the sensation and grips himself tightly. Slowly, he lets go and drops, his elbows on either side of Zevran's head. When he pushes forward, he groans and Zevran closes his eyes at the push.

It's only the barest breach and Zevran knows his Warden is trying his utmost to be careful but the tide of need that washes across him is so _intense_ it borders on pain. He opens his mouth but all that comes out is a strangled whine, high and a little desperate. It does the job and Enserric is pushing in, gasping , thrusting in shallow movements and moaning into Zevran's shoulder.

" _Zevran!_ " Enserric's voice echoes in the small space between his shoulder and ear, "Maker, Zevran!" There's a crackle of energy as his mage quakes atop him when he's fully seated.

The smell of magic is sharp and perhaps Zevran is insane but the tang of storm and danger makes him writhe underneath his beloved.

"Please Zev," Enserric gasps out, touching his forehead to the elf's. "I-" he struggles, closing his eyes, "I don't want to-ahh-hurt yoOU!" He loses control of a vowel when Zevran clenches around him. He looks startled when Zevran laughs.

  
The surge of emotion he feels for the man overwhelms Zevran for a moment and he turns his head to kiss the Warden. He tightens again and watches with relish as Enserric's face slackens in pleasure. He rubs his hands along Enserric's back, tangles in that black hair and just _arches_ underneath him.

That does it. The hesitation bleeds away from Enserric's body and he rears his hips back and thrusts forward in a brutal, elegant motion that has Zevran wailing against his mouth. He's twisted his legs around his beloved's hips like he's trying to melt into the man. Enserric fares no better, one hand clutching Zevran's thigh so hard there will surely be bruises and the other bared against the elf's face, rubbing against one ear. He's talking against Zevran's mouth and the elf can barely make out the litany of words, his name chanted reverently as if it were part of the Holy Canticle itself.

The pace is rough, perfect and brutal, desperation lining every thrust and Zevran's hanging on the precipice. Then suddenly Enserric rolls his hips and he's just right there and Zevran tries to fight against it but he can't  because it's perfect and he can't do anything but Enserric is snarling against his mouth in an incoherent mess; rips his hand away from Zevran's face and wraps it around his cock, pulling roughly in time with his thrusts.

Distantly, Zevran is aware that he's sobbing, keening like he's dying, he's probably going to tear his beloved's hair out of the roots but then the rhythm turns into a deep, grinding one and everything slows to a crawl as his insides turn into molten liquid. Zevran's body siezes as his orgasm rushes through him like a firestorm and it's so intense it hurts.

He hears Enserric crying out, pitching forward as the rhythm goes ragged, keeping him suspended on a thrall of pleasure before his Warden shakes apart above him, inside him.

The world is just white noise and slowly Zevran comes back to the sensation of soft lips against his, murmuring vague nothings as Enserric kisses him languidly. Eventually, the heat between their bodies turns mildly uncomfortable and Enserric is pulling away, sleepily tugging at the sheets underneath them. Thankfully, there's a coverlet above the blankets and that's tossed to the side before they're both under the -unsoiled- linen sheets. Zevran barely settles before he's pulled into Enserric's embrace. They shift for a few moments, trying to fit together again after so many years but the process is easier than Zevran believed. They were merely worn at the edges, they still fit.

Enserric wrapped his arms around him and pushed his face against the crown of Zevran's head. "I love you," He murmurs, voice heavy with sleep and affection. "Zevran."

Zevran hums in encouragement, tangling his legs with the Warden's. "Te adoro, mi amora." he replies.

  
For the first time, the prospect of 'tomorrow' doesn't  make Zevran's heart twist in pain. There is  a sense of rightness and he feels himself slowly drift away to the sound of Enserric's breath. They would talk, later, but tonight he eases into the deepest sleep he's known in years.


End file.
